


there's a bright splash of blood on the kitchen floor

by yikeshereiam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And The Silences That Exist Between Me And You, Except Its Not All That Secret, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship, The Various Love Languages Of Theo Raeken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikeshereiam/pseuds/yikeshereiam
Summary: “You saw it too, right?” He glances to the sink, then the table, then to Corey- who’s on the floor, tidying up the files, talking quietly with Nolan- and then, to Hayden again.She nods in confirmation, looking to the kitchen doorway, where Liam and Theo had disappeared under the pretence of a shower, whether together or separate was not specified. “I did.”“It’s different than before,” Mason says, leaning forward, his elbows braced on the counter. It’s different than before, he says, but Hayden knows it means,it’s different than you.Hayden nods again. “It is.”
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 12
Kudos: 134





	there's a bright splash of blood on the kitchen floor

**Author's Note:**

> or more accurately; the outsider pov no one asked for, but I provided anyway. 
> 
> moving on, here's me being an unapologetic hayden stan while simultaneously shoving all my subtle headcannons into one fic. 
> 
> so, please enjoy this utter mess while i finish writing the liam sequel for not yet a corpse (and by sequel, i really mean the last chapter, but in liam's pov)
> 
> (newly edited because i have zero self-control and procrastinate the stuff i’m actually supposed to do.)

Hayden uses every part of the used-to-be-perverted, now completely and utterly _original_ supernaturally-enhanced reflexes she holds to _not_ fall from her perch on the McCalls’ kitchen counter as soon as she catches a whiff of blood. 

It’s mixed with something _else_ ; something familiar. Deep, and rich, and earthy, a strange miscellaneous collection of scents that swirl and fuse together. The front door opens, and there’s footsteps, and loud voices, and her toes curl, revelling in the softness of it all, and the way her lip twitches upward, almost involuntarily, tuning out everyone and _everything_. 

Liam’s there, standing in the kitchen doorway, his hair a little longer, his eyes a little heavier, and her stomach flips. There’s the fading bite of anger encroaching at the edges of his scent, giving way to something light, something innocuous, catching at the base of Hayden’s neck, eliciting a prick of energy that’s so instinctual; so _animalistic_ that Hayden has to physically swallow down the rumble of pleasure that threatens to erupt from her chest. 

He smiles, and the warmth coiling at the bottom of Hayden’s skull spreads, crawling down her shoulders and through her body, setting every single nerve on fire. It’s not the same as it used to be, it’s not driven by something else; something _deeper_. Their eyes flare, out of acknowledgement; out of the quick, and sudden reconciliation, out of the idea of _pack_ , but she’s not there for _him_ , and he’s not there for _her_ , they are, however, both there for _Scott_. 

“Hey,” She says, shifting her weight, feeling the cool press of granite against her palm. It’s heartbreakingly underwhelming, greeting him with a simple ‘hey’, like they’re strangers, but Hayden’s looking at Liam, and she thinking, _maybe we are,_ because there’s blood on the underside of his jaw, congealed around his upper lip, marking the line of his brow, yet she’s never seen him look so _unbothered_. 

There's a glint of mirth in Liam’s eyes, there-and-then-gone, and Hayden wants to smile again, because of _course_ , even after _everything_ , Liam would find their situation a little morbidly hilarious. 

“Hey,” He echoes, moving across the tiled floor, stepping over Mason’s stretched out legs and around Nolan, until he stops at the sink. Liam blankly stares through the window and out onto the back garden. He turns on the faucet, and runs his hands under the water, the droplets rolling down his forearms, across two small circles tucked underneath the heel of his palm. 

(“It’s okay, Liam,” She said, reaching out her hands, guiding his arms away from the sink, voice soft, coaxing. They were standing in the Geyers’ guest bathroom, chests heaving, reeling from the end of yet another fight; yet another _victory_. “We’re _okay_.” 

Liam stared blankly, then tugged her forward, using _her_ grip to _his_ advantage. He pressed their mouths together, and Hayden realised that he was committing it to memory; committing _them_ to memory, so she kissed back just a feverishly, until they were both light-headed. 

She slung an arm around his neck, revelling in the idea of survival, and the relief that she was back, that they were both back, and _alive,_ and they would be, for a little while longer. Liam’s hands cupped her jaw, fingers spasming, stroking, thumbing along her cheekbones, resting his forehead against hers until she announced, abruptly; 

“We need to leave,” She said, because she shouldn’t be happy about the idea that they get to be alive for a few more moments. They were _kids_ , just turned _seventeen_ ; they should be trying to get through highschool, _not_ escaping death like it's a regular thing. “This place is cursed.” 

“I know,” Liam said, a little breathless, entirely helpless. Pulling her closer, kissing her harder. “We will,” he promised, trailing a careful finger down the side of her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “We will.” 

Hayden left, and Liam _didn’t_.) 

The thing is, reuniting with Liam- and by extension the rest of the McCall Pack, who are all spread out around the various surfaces of the McCalls’ kitchen, waiting with open, expectant expressions as Scott clears his throat, eyebrows ducked, eyes sunken with exhaustion, elbows braced on the the table, a map spread out in front of him- is _not_ what Hayden expected. 

They’re quiet, _a lot_ quieter than Hayden remembers; she can see it in the dip of Liam’s shoulders, and the press of Mason’s lips as he mulls over information, switching files with Lydia without even looking up from his lap and _even_ in the slope of Corey’s brow, whose chin is hooked over Mason’s shoulder, peering down at the blurred security footage screen-caps. 

Hayden understands. She thinks she’ll _always_ understand. Liam’s foot is tapping against the tiled floor, and his hands are still under the water, scrubbing at the grime, and the anger, and the _guilt_. There’s nothing to focus on as they wait for Scott, Stiles and Derek to finalise a plan, just grating silence and the choking scent of grief, so she _can’t_ blame Liam for his restlessness, or the others for the quiet. Monroe’s still alive, and the bodies keep piling up, and they can’t seem to stop them; or _her_. 

Hayden’s staring, and she knows she’s staring, but looking at everything else makes her stomach twist, because everyone looks so haggard; so _exhausted_ , and Liam just radiates this type of energy, even if it’s sharper than before, it’s still _there_. 

“Liam,” Scott says, not even looking up from the map, drawing a line across the length of the page. Stiles is at his side, directing the marker with pointed gestures, Derek cutting in with a tired voice every once in a while, rattling off pack names, and their respective alphas. “Where’s Theo?” 

_Theo_ , Hayden mouths dumbly, glancing between Liam and Scott, focus drawn away from Liam’s cardinal and gold jersey, and to Mason, whose lips flicker in a way that looks both completely devastated, and _hopelessly_ amused. _Theo_ , Mason returns, confirming _something;_ though Hayden can’t exactly determine _what._

“How would I know?” Liam snaps in a way that makes Hayden think he _does_ know. 

Hayden frowns. Not because she’s confused, even though she _is_ , but because Scott’s lips flicker upwards, like he finds something _funny_ , and Lydia just raises one eyebrow, turning her head so she’s looking at Liam, her mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Wasn’t he with you all morning?” Lydia asks, picking at the skin around her nails. She’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, right at Stiles’ feet, a stack of files at her side, papers, and pictures, and notes scattered around her. 

“I’m not his babysitter,” Liam says, stepping away from the sink, his forearms wet, the water dripping down onto the floor. He approaches the counter carefully, taking a towel from the rack just left of Hayden, his eyes hard, and Hayden immediately stiffens at the spike in his scent, because even after _years_ , she’s still attuned to his anger. 

Something akin to amusement flashes across Lydia’s face, and she opens her mouth, but before she can even reply, Derek’s drawl is heard from his seat in the corner- where he’s slumped backwards on a chair, his chin resting atop his forearms. “Isn’t that exactly what you are?” 

(“He’s my responsibility,” Liam said, voice tight and urgent, leaning forward on the McCalls’ kitchen counter, the pieces of the sword piled in a heap by his hand. Scott and Malia stared at him, then glanced at each other, communicating silently. 

“He’s _Theo_ ,” Malia stated blankly, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I’m not an idiot,” Liam snapped, and Hayden bristled, her hand instantly finding its way to Liam’s shoulder blade, pressing reassuringly, her chin hooking itself in the juncture between his neck and his collarbone. “I _know_ who he is.” 

“Then give me one good reason as to why we shouldn’t send him back,” Scott replied, eyes hard and unforgiving as he glanced at Theo, whose shoulder was pressed to the doorframe, watching the scene unfold. The Ghost Riders were _gone_ , so Theo was the only evil left, and they needed to figure out what to do with him. 

“He saved my life,” Liam said earnestly, and Scott blinked. Hayden _knew_ that, she knew, because as soon as the train station morphed back into the school’s library, and they were all standing, and waiting for Scott, and Lydia, and Stiles, and Malia, Liam told her; told _them_ \- her, Mason, and Corey- with such genuine _hope_ in his tone that Hayden almost flinched back at the implication. 

Liam was _smart_ , smarter than they gave him credit for, and perceptive too, underneath all the anger, and the desperation, and the heart-stopping realisation that he was so _young_ , that they all were, so Hayden watched, her eyes scanning Malia, and Scott, and Lydia, but then, also, Theo- whose mask slipped for a brief second, looking so _stricken_ , so _honest_ for a moment that Hayden wondered what the skinwalkers’ prison had done to him; because that _wasn’t_ the Theo that had brought her back to life, before his expression _closed_ , going blank again, lips curling into a biting, default smirk- and Stiles shook his head, cutting in with a strong; “He’s going back.” 

Scott was silent for a moment before; “He’s your responsibility.” He looked at Liam, then nodded. “Remember that.”) 

Liam looks faintly nauseous under the dim kitchen lights, and Hayden comes to the not all surprising conclusion that _Theo_ has something to do with it. Mason seems to have caught on too, kicking out a leg, toeing at Liam’s ankle. They exchange a look that Hayden can’t even begin to decipher, which is alarming in itself, because once, she had been able to read them both so easily, but now it’s different, now _they’re_ different. 

“He left,” Liam says, in lieu of an answer. Corey straightens at that, and looks between Mason and Liam too, eyes a little wider, eyebrows raised a little higher. Liam slumps down next to them on the floor, limbs loose, his face still littered with traces of blood, and dirt, and sweat. 

“He left,” Scott repeats, and then glances at Stiles, before asking; “To go where?” 

“I don’t know,” Liam says, taking the file from Mason’s lap. “Everywhere, nowhere.” He flips through it carefully, picking up one of the screencaps, and squinting. “He’ll be back.” 

“He’ll be back,” Stiles mimics incredulously, his hand flails towards the map on the table, and then to Liam, like it’s _Liam’s_ fault that Theo isn’t there. “We need him and his freaky, para-science knowledge now.” 

“And he needs time,” Liam says, like it’s simple, and Hayden wonders what Liam knows, that they _don’t_. He raises his hand in the air, tilting his head to the side, studying the blurred image. “That’s Rossler,” He states then, solving the unspoken mystery of who was in the photo, leaning over Mason’s legs to hand the picture to Nolan. “Right?” 

“And Hathaway,” Noan confirms, taking the screencap from Liam. He taps the woman’s face, nose scrunching upwards in thought. “She’s one of Monroe’s informants, I think she works with the underground.” 

“The underground,” Stiles deadpans, expression pinched. Hayden watches them all interact, feeling completely out of depth, and slightly dizzy as she listens to the back and forth. “The underground, as in Theo’s area of expertise?” 

“He’ll be back,” Liam repeats, so _sure_ of himself that it makes Hayden’s mind go blank for a solid minute, continuing to flip through the remainder of the file. Hayden notes the familiar Argent family symbol carved into the front cover, and furrows her brow. 

“Of course he’ll be back,” Mason says, and his voice has taken a teasing edge, something hidden underneath the way his words curl; something Hayden struggles to untangle, watching as Liam turns to glare, not-so-subtly, at Mason. “Liam’s here.” 

(“I’ll be back,” Hayden promised, arms tossed over Liam’s shoulders, forehead pressed to his, hands moving slowly, and surely into Liam’s hair. “I’ll be back.” 

“You won’t,” Liam said, and smiles tiredly, the curl of his lips so _soft_ , and careful, and innocent that it made Hayden’s teeth ache, and fight down the visceral need to pull him even closer, to kiss him even harder. Liam’s gentle when he repeated, again; “You won’t.”) 

~ 

To his credit, Theo _does_ come back. 

He walks into the room, hovering just past the doorway, glancing to Stiles, and Scott, then Liam, Mason, and Corey, before tossing _something_ across the room, waiting until it collides with the side of Liam’s face. Hayden watches as the chocolate bar falls into Liam’s lap, and then raises an eyebrow as Liam continues to stare at it, and his lap, while Stiles loudly says; “Didn’t bring anything for the rest of us?” 

“Reparations,” is Theo’s response as he makes his way across the floor and to the kitchen table. He throws a thumb over his shoulder, lips quirking upwards into a smirk. “For kicking his ass.” 

_For kicking his ass_ , Hayden repeats in her head, staring down at the tiles, where there’s a bright splash of blood at the foot of the sink. _Huh_ , she thinks, processing the twitch of Liam’s lips as he unfolds the foil. She watches as Theo looks back over his shoulder, right at Liam, his eyes a little cautious, searching for _something_ , and then, she catalogues the way Liam nods, not in reassurance, or anything else, just out of acknowledgment. 

“Argent is here,” Theo says, knocking Stiles out of the way with a shove of his hand. He stands at Scott’s side, looking down at the map, then back up at Liam, before taking the marker from Scott’s grip, and adding a circle to the criss-cross of mismatched lines. Theo points to the spot, then draws a lopping line from there up the map, and stops; “He’s trailing Monroe, she’s heading for Zoraida.” 

“Zoraida?” Scott asks, eyebrows furrowing. Stiles flips through one of the files, pulling out a photo of Satomi and another woman, slamming it down onto the kitchen table. 

“An ally of Satomi’s,” Derek answers, slowly standing to join Scott, Stiles and Theo at the table. Sidestepping Lydia and Malia as he moved. “Except, with a very contrasting sense of morality.” 

“She runs the underground,” Theo adds, tracing a finger along one of the lines. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, worn, leather bound journal and opens it up, flipping through the pages until he finds whatever he’s looking for. Theo turns the journal towards Derek and jabs at the paper. “Look, here.” 

“The underground,” Hayden repeats, glancing at Liam, and Mason, and Corey. “As in, like the lady in the photo?” 

“Who?” Theo questions, which prompts Liam to scramble upwards, taking the files, and the screencaps with him. Mason huffs, but reaches out to the pile nestled at Lydia’s feet, and takes another, handing some of the loose pages over his shoulder to Corey. 

“Rossler was spotted down East,” Liam says, pushing the photo across the table, and onto the map. He taps at the blurred image pointedly, then moves his finger to the newly-identified woman. Theo grabs at his wrist, as if to push it away, but then they both stare down for a second, right at their hands, expressions blank. 

Hayden thinks Theo will pull away, and watches as he starts to do just that, except, he pauses, and turns Liam’s hand around, until his wrist is facing upwards, and the small tattoo is pointing to the ceiling. His thumb brushes over the tattoo then, nail scratching at the black lines, before Theo looks up, and snorts, his other hand pulling a piece of dried blood from Liam’s hair like it’s _nothing_ , and Liam doesn’t even blink. 

Theo’s voice drops low, and really, Hayden admires his attempt, but when you’re in a room full of supernaturals, the idea of privacy is rather non-existent. _“You should’ve showered.”_

Liam huffs, replying, equally as quiet, and equally as ineffective; _“I washed my hands.”_

Before Theo could respond, Mason cuts in from the floor, unaware of what’s happening, unlike Hayden, who has a full view of the scene transpiring over the kitchen table. “Nolan identified the woman as Hathaway. Supposedly, she works with the underground.” 

That seems to snap Theo out of _whatever_ is going on with Liam, because he curses, loud and tired, and turns to Scott, but also Stiles, who don’t seem nearly as affected by Theo and Liam’s display than Hayden had expected them to be. “She’s hiring mercenaries.” 

“Like Braeden?” Malia asks from her spot on the floor, seated across from Alec, showing him, absently, how to flick one claw out on command. 

“Yeah,” Theo confirms, sharing an indecipherable look with Derek and Stiles, swallowing down hard. Liam curses too then, as if just understanding, and Hayden watches as Mason and Corey continue flipping through the files, and Lydia wraps a hand around Stiles’ ankle. “Like Braeden.” 

“Why?” Hayden pipes up, and she’s sure her voice sounds a little hysterical. “Actual assassins, she’s hiring actual assassins. Like the mass of cult-like maniacs wasn’t enough.” 

“She wants people with no code,” Derek says resolutely, taking the marker from Theo. “She doesn’t want people she can turn into killers, she wants people who already _are_.” 

There’s a deafening silence until Stiles opens his mouth, much to possibly _everyone’s_ chagrin; “So we send Theo in to infiltrate, simple.” 

“I’m sure that was supposed to be a dig at me,” Theo says, stepping back to cross his arms over his chest. He furtively glances at Liam, then his expression hardens some, pulling down a mask of nonchalance. “But it’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“What?” Liam’s head snaps up, and he glares at Theo. Scott’s hand instantly shoots out, landing down on Liam’s shoulder, keeping him from launching across the table at Theo, or Stiles, Hayden isn’t sure. “You _can’t_ be serious.” 

“They know me down there,” Theo says, like it’s obvious, but Liam continues glaring- but there’s something else in his eyes, something familiar, and Hayden latches onto it, tries to analyse it- and Stiles makes the decision to step away from the table, his hands raised in surrender. 

“They’re trained _killers_ ,” Liam snaps, scent going hot and staticy, and dangerous. The alarms in Hayden’s mind start ringing, the warning lights flashing, and she straightens, still sitting on the counter, still watching everything, like an outsider looking in. 

“So am _I_ ,” Theo says, deliberately antagonising, the inflection of his tone smarmy and downright self-destructive, almost calling for a fight. He angles himself towards Liam, stretching outwards and exposing everything vulnerable like he doesn’t even have to think. 

Hayden wonders what Theo’s trying to achieve by pitching stones into an already turbulent lake, but before she can ask, or Liam can say anything in reply, Lydia cuts in, her voice dry and dismissive; “Your stint as a serial killer _aside_ -” 

“My stint as a serial killer aside,” Theo repeats in disbelief, then he looks at Liam, as if to ask, _did you hear that?_ But Liam’s lips have already curled upwards, the anger still thrumming under his skin, but not as urgent: not as attention demanding, not as likely to explode. Hayden watches in fascination as Liam’s nostrils flare, and she realises he’s _anchoring_ himself in someone’s scent. 

(“You’re my anchor,” Liam whispered into the dark, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to his chest, his chin digging into her shoulder blades. They were lying on a blow-up mattress in the McCalls’ guest bedroom, listening to the sounds of everyone downstairs. 

Hayden smiled and pushed further against him, soaking in the warmth, and the comfort, her lips pressed to wrist replying with a quiet. “I know.”) 

Lydia doesn’t even indulge Theo with a response. 

“-it’s _clearly_ a trap.” Lydia continues, standing up. She dusts off her skirt, and gestures down at the collection of photos, and papers, and the map on the table. “A pack is only as strong as its weakest link, right?” 

Stiles seems to have caught on, because his eyes widen, and he nods, adding; “And Theo’s our weakest link.” 

“They want me alone,” Theo realises, through suddenly clenched teeth, and Hayden pretends not to notice the way _Liam_ stiffens, immediately reacting to the dip in Theo’s scent; to Theo’s _anger_. 

“To do what?” Scott asks, eyebrows furrowing. Lydia and Theo exchange a glance, and Stiles' hand comes down to rest on Scott’s shoulder. Liam says nothing. 

“To convert me,” Theo replies, flipping through the journal again. Derek peers over his shoulder, reading the scribbled notes, face devoid of any emotion. “To get me on their side.” 

“You’ve hurt us before,” Lydia adds, and she’s looking at Theo, hands splayed out on the table, Stiles at her side. “You could do it again.” 

“They think I could do it again,” Theo continues, and then he grabs the marker, circling something in the journal, shoving it across the table, and towards Lydia. Stiles picks it up, and his eyes skim the page before handing off to her. 

“But you wouldn’t,” Corey says, with such finality in his tone that Hayden almost flinches. Mason’s resting against his chest, and when Hayden looks at them both, their jaws are set, and their eyes are determined. 

Stiles nods in agreement, and Hayden tries to ignore the implications of that, because she wasn’t there when Theo did _whatever he did_ to gain their trust back, so she can’t participate in the flow of conversation, meaning that she’s watching _again_ , and waiting for everything to play out. 

Lydia looks up from the journal, to Scott, and Stiles, and Theo, her eyes flicking briefly to Derek, and Malia, and Liam, before she says, face tight in a way that makes Hayden think she has an idea; “So let’s use that to our advantage.” 

~

Liam drags Theo upstairs the minute the meeting ends.

Hayden’s still sitting on the McCalls’ kitchen counter, and she can feel the cool press of granite underneath her palms as Mason approaches it slowly. He raises one eyebrow in a silent question, and Hayden wants to laugh. 

“You saw it too, right?” He glances to the sink, then the table, then to Corey- who’s on the floor, tidying up the files, talking quietly with Nolan- and then, to Hayden again. 

She nods in confirmation, looking to the kitchen doorway, where Liam and Theo had disappeared under the pretence of a shower, whether together or separate was _not_ specified. “I did.” 

“It’s different than before,” Mason says, leaning forward, his elbows braced on the counter. _It’s different than before,_ he says, but Hayden knows it means, _it’s different than you_. 

Hayden nods again. “It is.” 

Scott folds up the map, and Stiles starts reorganising some of the files. Derek’s still flipping through Theo’s leather bound journal, and Hayden wonders, absently, what exactly it _is_. Alec and Malia are on the floor, no longer messing around with their claws, but instead watching something on Alec’s phone. 

“Is he happy?” Mason asks next, not looking at Hayden, but instead, over her shoulder, to Melissa’s back as she moves from cabinet to cabinet, pulling out plates and cups as she goes. 

Hayden thinks about it for a moment. She remembers Liam being gentle, and cautious, always touching her, always making her feel reassured. It was a precaution, just in case the anger got to be too much, and he said something he didn’t mean, he said something he would regret; he said something that would _hurt_. But with Theo, that calculated kindness _isn’t_ there. 

Liam is harsh. A tangle of hard lines and protruding muscles. He snaps, and he growls, and he bares his teeth. And Theo doesn’t even blink. It’s like they don’t _need_ to think about the other, like the reassurance is already _there_ , curling at the base of their necks like an omnipresent force, except Hayden knows it _isn’t_. 

Hayden doesn't necessarily like Theo either. He's dangerous, and possibly feral, a wild card she will never understand, because she wasn't _there_ to understand. 

But from what she had observed, Theo and Liam were an explosive force of ricocheting certainties and doubts, something a little unstable; something out of Theo's control and as she looks back at Mason, studying the line of his jaw, her lips quirking upwards into a helpless smile. “Yeah, I think he is.” 

(“They’re dead,” Mason said through the phone, voice heavy, and Hayden _froze_. 

“Who?” She tried to settle her pounding heart, running through the list of names, and replies that were in the pack group text she read over that morning. _They’re all fine,_ she thought, _everyone said they were fine._

“Brett and Lori,” Mason said, and Hayden swallows, squeezing her eyes shut, pushing the shopping cart down the aisle. “They’re _dead,_ Hayden.” 

“Is he okay?” She asked, a little helpless. Hayden stopped when she got to the shelves of cereal, and stared blankly at the wall of boxes as she rested her phone in between the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She _knew_ Liam and Brett were somewhat friends, at least in a reluctant way, and now he was alone, thrown into the wolves, or moreso, the _wolf-hunters_ , in favour of her sister, in favour of _herself_. 

“He will be,” Mason replied, and then they both stayed silent, listening to one another’s breathing, and the confirmation that Hayden _knew_ now, and that Mason was still _alive_.) 

“You think he’ll be okay?” Hayden asks, finally sliding off the counter and onto the kitchen floor. Liam enters through the doorway again, shirt hanging loose around his shoulders, damp hair falling forward and into his face. 

Mason doesn’t answer at first, just stays at Hayden’s side. Theo stumbles into the room shortly after, pulling a shirt over his head as he sidesteps Lydia and follows Liam towards the sink. The plan was finalised, and Hayden _knew_ Liam wasn’t too happy about the decision. 

Theo’s hand falls down onto Liam’s shoulder, tugging him backwards, until Liam slams against Theo’s chest. Neither moves, they just stay there, staring out the window above the sink. And if she focused her hearing, she’s sure she could hear the soft words as Theo’s mouth moves against the hair on Liam’s head, but she doesn’t, because even if this life was chosen for them, and Theo, for all intents and purposes, is still a monster hiding under Hayden’s bed, they deserve a brief flicker of privacy, of _hope_ , after it all. 

Scott glances at them, then away and Hayden sees the soft smile on his face. Mason watches, and his lips flicker too, turning to Hayden, and she sees it there in his eyes . Liam exists, and Theo takes up all the space around him in a way Hayden never could, and they've seen it grown in a way that Hayden will never be able to witness.

Mason looks back at Theo and Liam, then says, quietly, resolutely; “He will be.”

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, please, please, please give me feedback <3
> 
> this was alarmingly cathartic to write, and i honestly think it has something to do with me stanning hayden out of pure spite. 
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading, and i really hope you enjoyed!!


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